


Pulses and Arrhythmia

by Bai_Marionette



Series: Heartsick [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, M/M, Self destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2022735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bai_Marionette/pseuds/Bai_Marionette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan had a bad heart, but that never stopped from loving Alfred. His loving nature would draw Alfred in and lead him to his dream career - however, the Russian would not see him to the finish line despite his promise. Alfred had always wanted Ivan to be proud of him, he had been the one to truly spur him and be his dedication.<br/>Even now, he was Alfred's motivation to do better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulses and Arrhythmia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valorikei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valorikei/gifts).



**Short and Bittersweet**

Ivan was a perfect fit for Alfred, had always been.

From his big nose, to his freckles, to the way his bangs would fall over his eyes and sometimes block his vision. Alfred loved the way the Russian spoke of his native country that he had never been born in but loved all the same.

It was how he held his ground whilst remaining calm and collected - dignified in his own right, how he could turn into a squealing and pink mess for the weirdest things like baby animals and fresh snow. How Ivan liked to lick the batter spoon until there was literally nothing left to salvage and then apologize and help to fix the next one only to apologize when he tried to eat the next one as well.

It laid in his big golden heart, the heart that welcomed in the same man to have insulted him on false accounts without a second thought - the same big heart that liked to stutter. And stutter really bad.

Ivan had palpitations, awful ones, he had had them ever since he was a baby, he said, but to Alfred, it was always like a slap to the face when he remembered. It was always the good ones that suffered.

Arrhythmia, that was what it was called -or maybe it was something worse, because more than once was Ivan chastised by his family for giving up the good heart he had offered when he was younger. Now he was older, too old, and he was further on the line to get one.

Alfred hated it - he hated them so much, they made Ivan pale and stumble, made him heave for breath and nearly pass out in the middle of the floor. But Ivan would always apologize and smile when his heart went back to rights, calling them ‘no big deal’ and tell him not to worry.

It was in this line of events that Alfred found his calling of being an EMT, to help people at a moment’s notice. He took classes, studied, had Ivan quiz him and found himself acing everything. He took exams with flying colors, and well on his way to a degree, he had to take a final. It would decide everything. Alfred thought he had it in the bag, he told Ivan so, the Russian had been happy for him. He was going to make them a celebratory dinner - everything that Alfred liked, even the candy cupcakes.

It should be perfect. But -

Ivan’s heart - the way it stuttered, it would slow down and it usually picked up, it would come back…

While Ivan was cooking … it stuttered… but - but it had never come back. He had thought it would pass, like it always did, and so he had just sat down to reclaim his breath. He had probably just thought he was tired…

He …must have laid his head down, trying to shut out the light before it gave him a migraine… but - but the stutter - it wasn’t a stutter.

It was the start of a flat line. Ivan’s very last flat line.

:::

Alfred had put his phone on silent during the test, wanting no distractions, and he had been on the last question - only for Ivan’s younger sister to come in, fighting the schools’ officers to barge into his classroom and her literally dragging him from his desk to yell at him that he even found out anything. That he found his world slipping through his fingers.

"It’s your fault!" Natalya spat, still resisting being pulled out. "You promised that you’d watch him - let go of me! He has to talk to the damned officer at the h-house! He - he has to give his statement! He has to leave!"

The girl’s make up was running, Alfred’s head was spinning, the professor was pissed at the disruption and Natalya was still putting up a resistance, but the blond asked anyways, “Nat - what’s going on?”

"Ivan - I - you promised to watch him," her anger was deflating to just pure grief. He could see that she hadn’t had ample time to let her medicine kick in, but that was the least of his worries. His mind was adding things up but he wished the final equation wasn’t the one he thought it was - "Nat, don’t shit me, Nat -"

She just cried.

Heat burned in his face and stung his eyes, he collected his things and gave his test to the professor. He tried to give an apology, excusing himself as he took Nat from the officers and just carried her outside. She cried for a long time on his shoulder, throwing a small fit and beating a bruise into his back, but he rubbed hers, tears streaking his face. It was the least he could do.

She had no one left - Ivan had been the last, Katyusha had long since perished under the cancer that she had unknowingly carried in her breasts for years, her mother of old age and her father a combination of heartbreak and the same.

She had no one now, and Alfred tried to wipe away her tears and soothe her sobs as best he could.

At the most convenient time, they tried to see Ivan one last time. And despite his training and exposure to everything, Alfred fainted. Natalya nearly broke again.

It was really bad for a long time, the house was gone - Ivan with it - Alfred was still fresh out of college, he had aced his final no surprise but the good result lacked the joy he had once expected it’d bring. His motivation to get the degree was no longer there.

Natalya tried acting out and refusing her meds, soon after moving in with Alfred in his new ‘temporary’ apartment, and they fought for a while to which her best argument was that everything was his fault and that he should have been the one in the fire. It always worked because Alfred always felt the same. He wanted to have been the one in the fire, he could have got out, Ivan would still be there.

But he hadn’t been the one in the fire - Ivan had. If his heart - if - if - if-!

Eventually, during one argument, Natalya used her infamous insult and Alfred agreed with her. He shouted his agreement, he laughed at himself, told her how much he wished it had been him so that she wouldn’t have to deal with him or his misery, so she could still have her family and pretend to be normal, so she could live a decent life without him around.

He’d locked the door on her that night and went to bed. He didn’t speak of the argument, and even in the morning, he rose early and avoided her, didn’t bother to eat before he rushed out. He came home late. His appearance and state of mind worsened day by day, month by month - until, one day, he was the one in the ambulance.

:::

It had been like a day really, there was nothing that made sense and then - he knew he had to be dreaming because he saw Ivan and Katyusha looking at him, even their parents, even Alfred’s dad. His dog. Everyone’s emotions ranged, some were angry, some crying, some in shock - but there was just Ivan.

He looked…he just - there was no word for the disappointment, no words to describe how his tears fell on his chin. He had turned away even when Alfred called out for him.

The Russian looked back once, shaking his head, his voice silent but his lips moving with unheard words. Everyone else took to his side and walked him away, and despite how Alfred tried to call them back only Ivan looked back to say ‘I love you.’

Then Alfred woke up from his dream.

Natalya was sitting in the chair, makeup once again ruined by her tears as she slept on his side. He blinked, the drugs clouding his mind some, feeling the IV in his hand as he twisted and tried to pet her hair. He twisted further to kiss the top of her head, a tear escaping him. “I-I’m so sorry, Nat, I’ll do better, I p-promise.”

Another kiss to her head as she slept, “I won’t disappoint you guys again…”

He said to the darkroom, “I hope you can forgive me.”

A swift brush of air on his cheek and he smiled as he tried to let himself fall back asleep.

He would make it up - somehow, he’d fix things. He had to be hero, not just for Nat, but for himself. He would become his own motivation this time, and in turn, he would motivate Natalya and make sure she grew into the beautiful butterfly that they all knew she was.

He would make it up to Ivan, if they hadn’t gotten the chance - then he would fill the position. It was the least he could do.

-

**Author's Note:**

> It was supposed to be a nice little drabble gift to Val, but I ended up killing a bunch of people's hearts in the process. Mission accomplished?


End file.
